


Feverish and Feral

by beatlelover22



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Cold, Common Cold, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Sick Greg House, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatlelover22/pseuds/beatlelover22





	1. Chapter I

Gregory House was miserable. Not that he ever  _wasn’t_  miserable, but this particular morning, he was excessively so and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was a Monday. 

To make matters worse, the five cases put on his desk were more or less boring. A 38-year-old woman with abdominal pains, vomiting and fatigue; six-year-old with a rash on his back; 16-year-old with joint pain and a scaly rash; a 45-year-old car crash victim now in a coma; and a 26-year-old who’d lost feeling waist down as well as her eyesight. On second thought, the last case was most promising.

“ _Ah’ **TSHOOOO!**_ ” he exploded, frantically grabbing for the handkerchief in front of him. “ _ **ASHHHHT!**_ ” 

He groaned and stuffed the piece of cloth in his pocket; he’d definitely need it later.

“Bless you,” Cameron told him, a steaming cup in her hands. She set it on his desk and smiled. “Morning.”

“You’re about...” The man glanced at his watch and clucked his tongue. “Thirty two seconds late.”

The young woman rolled her eyes. “So, are you gonna hole up in here all day or do you have a case for us?”

House took a sip of the hot drink and grimaced. “Hole up in my office? Wouldn’t dream of it, I’m sick. Ugh, what is this?”

“Tea.”

“You know I hate tea.”

She smirked. “As you said before, you’re sick. Drink up.”

House glared at her before taking another sip. “I’m gonna need you guys to take care of...” He glanced down at the files in front of him. “Actually, all of these,” he said, thrusting the folders into her hands.

Cameron looked shocked. “House, that’s five cases. I don’t think Foreman, Chase and I alone can—”

“You won’t be alone. You’ll be with —  _hah’ **ASHHOOO!**_  — Chase and Foreman, like you said. Not alone. Besides, these are the easy ones.”

“Fine,” she exhaled, leafing through the papers. “You want us to give you a call when we’re done?”

House ran a finger under his nose and sniffed experimentally, earning a look from Cameron. “Sorry, thought I was gonna sneeze. Yeah, call me after you’ve gone through all of them.”

She nodded, walking towards the door. Before leaving, she poked her head into his office again. “Feel better.”

House sniffled and watched her leave. Once she was a good distance away, he retrieved his handkerchief and roughly blew into it, rubbing the already irritated nostrils. He glanced at his watch, getting up to leave, then decided against it. It was early enough that re-runs of  _Prescription Passion_  were on. House sighed and sat back down, turning on the television with his cane.

* * *

Nearly hours later, House sneezed himself awake. “ _Eh’ **GHISHOOO!**  Hah’ **ESHHH!**_ ”

“Jane, I love him!” Casey was saying to her best friend, Anna. 

She looked disgusted. “Casey, he’s your third cousin. You can’t just—” 

House clicked off the television abruptly. He grabbed his cane and patted his pocket for his handkerchief before locking his office door and leaving.

* * *

“House, I need you to— where are you going?” Cuddy called, attempting to chase down her employee.

“I’m going home,” he informed her, trying to limp faster.

“Look at me,” she commanded. When he didn’t stop or slow down, she grabbed his arm. “House.”

He turned to face her. “What?”

“You’re sick?”

“No, I look like Rudolph on a daily basis. Also, I smoke a lot of pot.” He pointed sarcastically to his red-rimmed eyes.

Cuddy shook her head. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive yourself home? Your eyes are glassy and you— House? House!

The man was staring straight at her, but Cuddy knew he wasn’t really staring. He was completely out of it. 

The whole lobby started to spin and tilt, yet he could still hear her distorted voice. “House!” Slower than normal and much deeper. Her voice was the last thing he heard before his knees gave out.


	2. Chapter II

When House regained consciousness, the first thing he saw was the concern in Cuddy’s eyes as she leaned over him. “House, can you hear me? Oh, you’re burning up.”

The man blinked slowly. If he wasn’t feeling so groggy, he’d probably make some racy comment about her breasts. Instead, he opted for a smart ass remark — the best kind of remark. “I know. A fever will do that to you.” 

House attempted to sit up but was surprised when a wave of dizziness kept him down. “Ugh.”

“Can I get some cooling blankets?” Cuddy asked a passing nurse, who promptly nodded.

House shook his head. “No, no, I don’t need cooling blankets, I just need to get to my _c-cahhh... ah’ **SSHHHTT!**_ ” He turned his head to the side at the last second, narrowly missing his employer. “ _Hah’ **ESSHHOOO!**_ ”

“Your car? You don’t have a car, you have a motorcycle.”

“I know, that’s what I m-meant.” He firmly clamped his mouth shut, determined to stop his teeth from chattering.

“Besides, I can’t let you drive home like this. You’d never get past the parking lot.”

A nurse came back and helped the doctor sit up. When she trying to hand House the blanket, he pushed it away. 

“My fever’s too low for a cooling  _bl-blanket — Heh’ **ASHHHUHHH!**_ ”

“Bless you. House, I want to keep you here for the night. I think that—”

“Oh no. I’m not staying here. It’s a  _fever_.”

Cuddy gave him a look. “You obviously can’t take care of yourself. I mean, have you seen your reflection? You — House. Are you even listening to me?”

He was patting his jacket pocket. “Damn. I think I left my Vicodin on my desk. I’ll need that before I leave.”

Just as Cuddy was about to insist on his admittance to the hospital (again), House saw a familiar pair of perfect, polished business shoes striding down the hallway and he knew he was in trouble.

“House?” Wilson’s voice called out. “Are you ok—”

“Wilson, your concern is showing,” House said. “It’s annoying. In other news, Mother Superior won’t  _lehhh.._. let me l-leave.” 

House’s breath hitched and he brought a fist up to his nose, cruelly crushing the tickling sensation. 

Cuddy pursed her lips and turned to Wilson. “He’s obviously got a fever and he can’t even stand without feeling dizzy. He needs to be admitted, at least for the night. He sure as hell can’t drive home.”

“I’b perfegly fide! I just cad’t fide by Vicodin.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing you should be worrying about right now,” Wilson scoffed. “I’ll take him home.”

“Would you? I wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to.”

House rolled his eyes. “Oh doe, God forbid he has to spend a dight with  _hehh..._ be — _heh’ **ATCHHOO!**_ ”

“Yeah, I’ll take him home.” Wilson extended a hand and helped House to his feet.

Cuddy smiled. “Thanks, Wilson. Good luck,” she breathed into his ear.

House sniffled, threw an arm around Wilson and the pair left.

* * *

The frigid air hitting House’s face was a relief to him, but a worry to Wilson. Of course.

“We’re almost to the car.”

“I kdow, I cad see id. Why are you so worried? I’b dot dyig.”

Wilson bit his lip as they hobbled towards the car. “You sure sound like it.”

“Congestion is dot usually a sybtomb of dyig.  _Hah’ **ISHOOO!**_ ”

“Bless. You cold?” He opened the passenger side door and helped him into the car.

House batted his eyelashes. “He opened the door for be! Gee, a guy after by own heard!”

“Shut up and answer the question.”

“No, I’b dot cold. I’b hot.  _Eh’ **SHUUHHHH!**  _Fever, duh.”

* * *

“You really should’ve kept Maria around,” Wilson commented as soon as they were in House’s apartment. 

The place was extremely cluttered. Various magazines and medical journals covered the couch, a few DVD’s of  _Prescription Passion_  were loose on the table and some of his sheet music had fluttered down from the piano onto the floor, which was barely visible due to said clutter. 

“How do you even move around here?”

House limped over to the couch and practically collapsed. “Who’s Maria?”

“The maid.”

“Oh. Well, you deeded her more.”

“Obviously not. Here, let me take your temperature.

“You don’t wand to t-take off your —  _hh’ **ETCHOOO!**_  — your jacket first?”

Wilson sat down next to him and turned on the instrument. “Nope. Open up.”

Interestingly enough, he complied without complaints and Wilson slipped the thermometer under his tongue. “Don’t take it out until it beeps.”

House’s nostrils flared. “Wilthed, I hath to thdeeze.”

“What?”

“I hath—” He quickly pinched his nose shut and felt the pressure in his ears. “ _Hh’ **GNTTT!**_ ” The thermometer was intact, but Wilson wasn’t happy.

“Don’t do that!”

“Whath?”

“Stifle your— you know what? Don’t try to talk. I really need to see how high your temperature is.” Wilson was nearly cut off by an irritating beeping noise. He removed the thermometer and sighed. “102.4.”

“I’ve had w-worse,” he said, trying to hide his shivering.

“You’ve got chills?”

“D-doe.”

“House, I can tell you’re lying.”

“Thed why’d y-you bother —  _ **ASHOOOO!** Heh’ **ISHHHH!**_  — askig?” House snapped, crossing his arms. He meant it to look tough and possibly stubborn, but all it was really just a cleverly disguised way of conserving heat.

“You’re impossible! Are there any other symptoms you’re hiding from me and would like to discuss? Now would be the time.”

It was going to be a long night for the both of them.


	3. Chapter III

“By body’s tryig to kill be,” House announced, shaking. “How’s thad for a symptom?”

Wilson frowned. “I know you feel cold but you’re really hot. Lay down.”

“Ooh, so forward Wilsod. Whad’s next, you askig be to take off by p-pands?” A large hand on his chest pushed him down into the cushions, earning a cry of pain from House. “Ah! Thad hurt!” he snapped.

“Sorry,” the oncologist said, placing a cool wet rag on his forehead. “But I’m going to have to at least unbutton your shirt.”

House didn’t complain as his friend’s fingers carefully moved down his shirt, revealing the bare skin underneath. He gently tugged his arms out of the sleeves and took a deep, shuddering breath. “ _Hh’ **ISHHHUHH!**_ ”

“Bless you.”

“I ache all over,” House whined. “Ad by leg hurts. Ad I cad’t stop sd-sdeezig —  _eh’ **EHTISHOOO!**_ ”

“Definitely flu. Lucky, I remembered something you forgot.”

House exhaled in relief when Wilson reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a familiar bottle. “Thag God. Gimme.” 

When he shook out five tablets, Wilson nearly choked. “What are you doing?! Are you trying to kill yourself? Two’s a good number.”

“I’b id pain!”

“You won’t be able to feel anything if you take the whole bottle. Here.” He set some NyQuil on the coffee table and stood up, Vicodin container in hand. “I’ll be right back and I’m taking this with me.”

As soon as he was gone, House snatched the cough suppressant and took a couple of swigs. More than a couple. He sighed in relief as a sort of warmth flooded his senses.

“Hey, I found a couple DVD’s of  _Prescription Passion_  and I’m willing to suffer through a few episodes if you — House? What did you take?”

House’s eyes were half-open and his breathing was irregular. “I’b floatig.”

“Shit.” Wilson tossed the DVD’s to the side and grabbed his stethoscope off the chair. “Your heart’s beating too fast. You tired? Dizzy? House!”

“I’b great. Id wasn’t NyQuil by the way.”

“Really? I hadn’t figured that out by now!”

“Id’s filled with—” His face contorted. Before Wilson could assume he was about to have a seizure, the man’s nose twitched and his head snapped forward. “ _Ih’ **HITISHHH!**  Hur’ **ESHHHH!**_ ” 

He had a hand clamped over his nose and mouth and patted his pocket for his handkerchief. House buried his face in the cloth and continued talking. “It’s filled with Robitussin.  _Hah’ **ESHHH!**_ ”

“You can’t suffer through a cold without getting high? That’s pathetic. And dangerous.”

“Ad fud,” House pointed out, staring at his friend without blinking. Wilson’s eyes were different colors and his face seemed to be emitting bright light. “Your skid is sparkly.”

Eyes watering, he frantically searched the couch for his handkerchief. “Have you seen my—  _ehhh... eh’ **PTISHHHHAHH!**_ ”

Wilson quickly grabbed the damp cloth before House could get to it. “No way. This is gross and unsanitary. I’m getting you some tissues like a normal person would use.”

House pinched his itching nose firmly until Wilson came back with a few boxes of tissues. Seeing House’s obvious dilemma, he ripped open the box and snatched a few tissues, pressing them into House’s free hand. 

As soon as he released his nose, his breath started hitching wildly. “ _Ahhh... hahhH! Hah’ **TISHAHHH!**  Huh’ **TCHHOOO!**  Ehhh... ih’ **SHUHHH!**_ Ugh...”

“Bless you.” Wilson fed the DVD player a disk. “We’re starting with season one though.”

“By head hurds,” House groaned, closing his eyes and shuddering.

“Too bad you already maxed out on medicine for the night. Lift up your leg.”

“Uh, doe.”

“Yes.” Wilson carefully lifted the man’s bad leg and sat down on the other end of the couch. He put a pillow in his lap and elevated House’s leg.

“Thad actually feels—” He took a gasping breath and Wilson waited for the inevitable. “ _Heh’ **GETISHHHOOO!**  Guhhh..._”

“Bless.”

A few minutes later, Wilson started talking again. “You know, this show is actually kind of addicting. Must be something to do with the totally unrealistic drama.” 

He waited for a sarcastic reply from House. When there wasn’t one, he glanced over and saw that House was asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly. Wilson allowed his own eyelids to drift shut.

* * *

Wilson awoke with a horrible cramp in his neck. Groaning, he tried to sit up and found that he was at least partially trapped by House’s leg on top of him.

“ _Hgnn_....” A moan escaped House’s lips and caught Wilson’s attention immediately. 

House was shaking and beads of sweat dotted his face.  
Trying not to hurt him, Wilson lifted up the leg. A hand on his forehead confirmed the high fever and he frantically started searching for wherever House must’ve tossed the cool cloth.

“Where is that damn cloth?” he muttered to himself.

“Please...”

Wilson glanced up from the floor, where he was on his hands and knees, still searching.

“Dad, l-let me in, it’s c-cold out here.” House’s lips barely moved yet he was speaking, speaking to someone that was not Wilson. “I’m... I’m s-sorry.”

Wilson blinked, snapping out of his state of shock, and began undressing his friend.

“No, n-no, just let me come inside. I won’t —  _ih’ **KHISHHHH!**_  — d-do it again! I’ve learned m-my lesson! Please!” House’s eyes were wide open and he was shaking more violently now, clad only in a pair of boxers.

“House. House!” Wilson shook the man by the shoulders, desperately trying to get through to him. 

He’d never, ever seen House like this and to be frank, it was beyond terrifying. “You’re delirious. This isn’t you talking, it’s the fever. Listen to me. Can you hear me? It’s Wilson.”

“Wilson?” House blinked, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Wilson sighed in relief. “You’re sick. Really sick.”

“ _Hih’ **TISCCHHH!**_ ” House’s nostrils flared and he sneezed into cupped hands. “ _Hah’ **TSHHH!**_ ”

“Bless you, House.” Wilson got up and returned with a few dripped cloths and some ice chips. He strategically put a few washcloths on the man’s chest, neck and forehead. “I know it’s cold, but I’m just... I’m just trying to bring your fever down.”

House shuddered once more before turning into the couch to sneeze without hitting Wilson. “ _Eh’ **HERSHHHHH!**_  I’b.... I’b sorry, Dad. Led me id, please. Id won’t happen agaid.”

Before Wilson could stop himself, he was running his fingers through House’s damp hair. 

“I forgive you,” he breathed as if the words were a secret mantra. “I forgive you.”


End file.
